I stared at Ophelia’s half naked, halfly covered body, next to which I had awoken in the early morning. Sun beams shattered a bright light into the bedroom. I was still curled up against her, my legs wrapped around hers, I slowly unlocked myself, careful not to awake her. Her facial muscles contracted together in a jerking move, her shoulders twisted slightly as she turned around on her other shoulder away from me. She dived away in the dark corner of the sheet, sheltering from the breaking dawn and my voyeuristic stare, both pervading her closed eyelids, penetrating the soul and bringing her out into a present awareness of the rising sun.
She moaned, half opened her eyes, half resisting awakening. Ophelia’s stare searched through the rubbled blanket and discovered me observing her. She smiled in a beloved way and turned on her back. I slowly pulled the sheet off her, letting it crawl downward along her chest, revealing first her nipples then her belly button. Ophelia giggled. Did you know that navel in Greek is Napei, which is another name for Delphi, where the actual navel of the world was placed in antiquity, in the form of the omphalos. Here the oracle of Delphi spoke, the oracle of Apollo, Apollo the god of poetry and music. I bend forward and kissed her navel. The omphalos was a stone with the carving of a knotted net. She grinned and nodded tiresomely, turning her face toward me.
‘As I am capturd in the nets of your love?’ she mocked me, ‘My little Apollo.’
A net of light from the morning sun had wrapped hir firmly in its beams. I pulled the sheets further down, displaying her public hair and har long nude thighs. I pushed my fingers upon her skin, lowering my hand toward her crotch. My fingers played with the curly hair, which sprang up and fall flat again, some curled to the side. Pushing her further leg away, opening her legs wide apart. I looked at her pussy. It was hard to distinguish the clear shapes of the vulva, her labia folds were hidden under the dense hair between her legs. I fidgeted with the tiny, stiff hairs.
‘What are you doing?’ She asked.
I pondered on her question for a few seconds. ‘I think we should shave your pussy,’ I said.
‘Okay,’ she ignored me.
‘No serious,’ I replied firmly. ‘We gotta do it right now.’
She opened her eyes widely now, the white of her eye balls jumped out from the sleep that had help her back. She pretended a certain surprise, shock perhaps, but then she smiled proudly, flattered by my obsessive attention for her vagina.
‘I want to see clearly the shapes and the folds of your cunt, that is, you’re my cunt, and I want to see what I got. I want to be impressed by the pristine image of your labia, your vagina, your clitoris, your venus hill, the’ soft skin around your anus, the curves running from your buttocks to your loin.’
She fell back into the pillow and closed her eyes again.
‘Go ahead,’ she consented.
I jumped up from the mattress, happy as a child, and ran to the bathroom, searching for a small scissors and razor. When I returned Ophelia had kicked off the remainder of the sheets, and had her legs slightly spread apart. She lay ready waiting for me, her body resigned and fully relaxed, which caused a thrill in my head and chest.
Religiously devoted, I kneeled besides her knees, and placed my hands on both her caps. For a few minutes I stared to admire one more time the hairy vagina that I was about to shave and undo of the pubic growth that was common of her to me. I took the scissors and carefully cut a small pluck of hair until most of it was shortened close to the skin. I took the razor and finished. The nudity of her crotch revealed her whole vagina to the eye. I put my lips to her baby soft fleshy cunt, unmediated cunt, direct and immediate flesh of the womb.